


Spider Plants and Super Soldiers

by meils121



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Plant Witch Bucky, Plants, Witches, but the good kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: Bucky - if he’s being honest - doesn’t fully get how his gift works.  He knows that it does work, though, and that is normally enough for him.  He knows how to direct his magic and Steve’s energy to the task at hand, knows how to concentrate so the idea in his head comes to life in front of him.------Bucky's a plant witch.  His magic breathes life into dying blooms and wrecks havoc against Hydra cells.  The catch?  He needs Steve to work any magic.  Together, they've created the life that they never could have dreamed of all those years ago.





	Spider Plants and Super Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZepysGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZepysGirl/gifts).



> My second fill for Marvel Trumps Hate, for ZepysGirl! I absolutely loved writing this fic - plant witch Bucky is so much fun to write. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for participating in MTH!

            Bucky loves touching Steve.

            He loves the warmth of Steve’s body, proof that the other man is here and safe and well.  He loves the pulse of Steve’s heart, a steady reminder that they are both still alive after all they’ve been through and all the years that have passed them by.  Steve is here, and so is Bucky, and things are going to be okay.  That’s what Bucky loves.

            Bucky reaches out and traces a line down Steve’s arm, touch feather-soft.  Steve glances up from his sketchbook for a moment and smiles.  “What’s up?”

            “Just thinking.”  Bucky says.  His finger comes to rest on Steve’s free hand.  He feels the hum of magic gathering at the point where they’re connected.  It’s gentle now, a barely noticeable spark waiting for Bucky to do something with it.  Bucky loves that feeling too, the promise of new life that hovers between them.  The answering spark hovers beneath his own skin, magic slowly gathering.  

            Steve hums, content, and leans back against Bucky.  “I was thinking.”  He says, voice slow and steady.  “Wanna try something?”

            “What do you have in mind?”

            Steve flips through his sketchbook until he reaches a page covered in carefully drawn vines and a riot of colorful flowers.  “You know how you can make your tats move?  I thought maybe that could work on artwork.”

            Bucky raises an eyebrow, interested.  His tattoos are a more recent addition.  They start above his heart, vines twisting their way across his chest and down his right arm to curl around his wrist.  When he’s working magic, the vines move and bloom.  It’s a constantly changing map across his body, and he loves it. 

            He’s not honestly sure how the tattoos move, because that hadn’t been his intention when he first got them.  It wasn’t until he came home and Steve touched him for the first time that they noticed his new artwork was moving.  It just seems to be another way his magic and Steve’s energy interact with each other.  Bucky will never tire of these new discoveries.

            “Let’s see.”  Bucky says to Steve.  He closes his eyes and lets his magic rise to the surface.  He settles his finger more firmly on Steve’s hand, drawing just enough energy to make this work.  

            It used to be that he couldn’t even touch Steve, back when Steve was a scrawny little kid who had more health worries than Bucky had fingers and toes.  Bucky learned quick, learned to keep his magic firmly beneath the surface so he wouldn’t take all of Steve’s energy.  Steve used to sit and mope about that, would say he felt guilty that Bucky had a gift that he couldn’t even use because Steve was too weak for it.  But Bucky never felt that way.  The gift wasn’t all that important to him anyways, especially when all it seemed good for was making a flower bloom a couple days early or a seedling sprout in poor soil. 

            Every once in a while - when Steve was as healthy as he could be - Bucky would let just a little bit of magic creep to the surface.  Steve would interlace their fingers and Bucky would make Sarah’s favorite flower burst into bloom.  But Steve wasn’t healthy all that often, and sometimes Bucky would find himself wishing that he could make Steve blossom like he could flowers.

            Steve slides the sketchbook over to Bucky, who opens his eyes now that he’s got just the right amount of energy and magic swirling around him.  Sometimes he thinks he can almost see it, even if he knows that’s impossible.  Bucky uses his free hand to direct the mix of energy and magic towards the drawing.  His tattoos move with the magic, uncurling from their place around his wrist and sliding down his hand to direct Bucky’s gift to this specific task. 

            Bucky - if he’s being honest - doesn’t fully get how his gift works.  He knows that it does work, though, and that is normally enough for him.  He knows how to direct his magic and Steve’s energy to the task at hand, knows how to concentrate so the idea in his head comes to life in front of him.  

            He stares at Steve’s drawing, willing life into the twisting vines and colorful blooms.  For a moment, the air around them seems to come alive, crackling with possibilities.  Then his gift settles, flowing towards its directed target.  With a pulse of energy Bucky’s gift breathes life into Steve’s drawing.  The vines start to move, seeking out their matching siblings inked into Bucky’s skin.  The flowers become more vibrant.  As if a gentle breeze watches over them, they sway slightly on the page. 

            Steve, who never seems to tire of Bucky’s gift, even though he’s seen every little piece of magic Bucky has worked, lets out a delighted gasp.  “Buck.”  He breathes, reaching for the page.  His artwork shifts, making room for his finger to settle on the paper.  A leaf waves beneath his finger, making him smile.  

            “You did it.”  He says, as much in awe of Bucky’s gift as he was the very first time.  “Look!”

            Bucky smiles, leaning in and bumping against Steve’s shoulder.  “You made them.”  He says.  He’s always been hesitant to claim his gift as just _his_ , especially when Steve is the one who gives him the energy to actually work any magic.  

            “We made them.”  Steve corrects.  His grin grows wider as one of the flower buds bursts into bloom.  “Together.”

           

 

=================

 

            Some days, they don’t leave the apartment, content to soak in each other’s company without the noise of the city.  They curl up on the couch and talk about nothing and everything.  They watch the many movies they missed and order in some of the overwhelming amount of takeout available in the city.  Some days, they wander through the city, seeking out familiar sights from decades ago and discovering new places that fill them with that same delight.  They talk about the days they spent running wild on no-longer familiar streets.  Steve introduces Bucky to the new wonders he’s found - invariably a diner that’s seen better days but staffed with the sort of waitresses who remind Bucky of Sarah and his own ma, working hard to provide for their families.  They sit on a bench in the nearby park and watch the world go by and enjoy just being together.

            Some days, they get thrown back into the fighting that never seems to really end.  

            Today is one of those days.  Bucky wakes not long before dawn to Jarvis sounding the alarm.  He’s dressed and ready for battle before he’s fully awake.  He makes his way to the elevator, Steve at his side.  

            Tony meets them downstairs and briefs them on the latest threat.  Another Hydra cell has been found, this one an hour flight away.  Natasha has more information for them all on the ride, and Steve offers a plan of action.  

            Steve always has a plan of action, and now that he’s got the body to match his plans, they tend to work out in his favor.  But Bucky can remember the days when Steve’s plans never took into account the fact he was a scrawny little kid with no more grace than a newborn colt.  It’s how they met, actually - how they discovered that Steve was Bucky’s familiar and that they were more twined together than should be possible.

            Bucky can remember that day like it was yesterday.  He’s walking home from the corner shop with groceries for his ma.  He’s passing an alley when he hears a scuffle, and curiosity gets the best of him.  When he sees mean Pete Turner beating up a little kid, he sets the groceries down and marches into the fray.  

            Pete - a bully and a coward - sees him coming.  He shoves the little kid towards Bucky, and that’s when it happens.  Bucky grabs the kid to keep him steady, and suddenly he’s blinded by burst of green light and flashes of color.  When his vision clears, Pete is pinned to the brick wall by nasty looking thorny vines, and the kid is passed out at Bucky’s feet, his skin an unnatural shade of grey.  

            Old Mrs. Iliescu - one of those Old-World witches - sees the whole thing.  She tells Bucky to bring the kid up to her apartment, where she bustles around the kitchen creating some foul-smelling concoction she makes the kid drink.  

            “I had ‘im on the ropes.”  It’s the first thing the kid says, just as Bucky opens his mouth to apologize for more or less sucking the life out of him, even if it was accidental.  And that’s when Bucky discovers Steve is more stubborn than should be possible.  It’s also when they become fast friends.  Mrs. Iliescu sits them both down and gives them a lecture on using magic responsibly, and they both swear to be careful.  

            Careful, though, isn’t a word in Steve’s vocabulary.  It’s a fact Bucky is reminded of when Steve throws himself head first into battle against a Hydra agent seconds after they infiltrate the base.  

            “What happened to sticking to the plan?”  Bucky asks as he takes down two more agents rounding the corner.  This particular Hydra base appears to be yet another research facility.  They always give Bucky the creeps, a dark feeling coming over him the further they go into the base.  He spent too much time in a place like this, being poked and prodded and manipulated.  The only thing he can be thankful for is that Hydra never figured out how to get his magic to work without his familiar at his side.

            “I’m improvising.”  Steve flashes a grin.  They leave the others behind to deal with the agents here.  It’s deeper in the facility, down two flights of stairs and through several windowless rooms, that they find the poor victims of Hydra’s research, two starved looking kids locked in cells.  

            Steve frowns at the cells.  “Brute force isn’t gonna work.”  He says, because they’ve both been to enough Hydra facilities to know that even Steve can’t just break down the types of cells Hydra builds.  Because Steve broke down one once - the one where Bucky was trapped - and Hydra learned from their mistakes. 

            Things changed during the war, after Steve turned into a super-human.  Now it was Bucky who was sapped of energy when he did magic.  Steve had so much energy bubbling under the surface that all it took was a single touch and Bucky could turn an entire battlefield into a thicket of brambles.  He couldn’t control it, not really.  Not the way he was used to, anyways.  But they got by, and as time passed things got a little easier.  They never went hungry, at least.  Bucky’s magic made sure of that.

            Things change again after Steve brings him back from the horrors of Hydra.  Now they’re closer in power, more balanced.  So today Bucky has no problem gripping Steve’s shoulder and focusing on the room around them.  They’re underground, which might prove difficult except for the fact that Bucky can sense tree roots lying just beneath the foundation of the building.  He calls out to them, sending his magic their way until the floor beneath them is shattering as the roots force their way into the building.

            Bucky has always liked working with trees.  Their raw power is something he’s in awe of.  These trees have stood for a hundred years, growing strong and tall and just waiting for the right nudge.  Bucky gives them that nudge now, urging the roots towards the cell.  Steve joins them, adding his strength to theirs.  Together they yank at the cell doors until they clatter to the floor. 

            Bucky helps the roots retreat back to their underground homes before turning his attention back to the scene in front of him.  Steve is helping the cells’ occupants to their feet.  Bucky peers out the door. 

            “Coast is clear.”  He says.  Over comms, Natasha calls out for help in the south side of the building.  “Come on, we gotta get going.”

            It’s more of the same after that.  Hydra agents are nothing if not loyal, willing to fight to the bitter end.  Bucky doesn’t feel bad about taking them out.  He’s disgusted by their sick ideas and stomach-turning methods of getting what they want.  Still, it’s a fight he’s had too many times. 

            They finish clearing the building.  Bruce looks over the two captives Bucky and Steve rescued while Tony focuses on Hydra’s computers.  Bucky heads for the jet.  He’s tired.  Tired of the fighting, of the way Hydra always pops back up.  Tired of the path of hurt and destruction Hydra leave in their wake.

            Steve joins him on the jet.  He rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder, a steady reminder that he’s here, and so is Bucky, and they’ll make it through this.  

            “I just want to go home.”  Bucky says.  “I need my plants.”

            “Okay.”  Steve says.  “Okay.”

 

===========

 

            Bucky starts his plant collection before he even really knew he was Bucky, back when the line between Winter Soldier and Bucky was still indistinguishable.  The plants are a way to remind him of who he is, even if he’s not always sure why they’re so important.  But then Steve finds him for the fifth or sixth time, and Bucky finally remembers.

            Now, the plants have taken over the apartment he shares with Steve.  When he moved in, Steve had already tried to make the place feel like home.  He’d changed the modern nonsense that Tony had picked out for well-worn leather sofas and an armchair that reminds Bucky of the one his dad used to sit in.  His artwork was up on the wall, adding much needed color to the sterile white walls.

            Bucky adds more color, in the form of plants and flowers that he places on every available ledge.  The apartment blooms with life.  It makes Bucky feel safe and comfortable.  He likes knowing that no matter what happens in the world around him, he can always come back and find peace with his plants.  And with Steve, for that matter.

            It’s Saturday morning, early enough that the city is as quiet as it’s going to get.  Maybe a plant witch would be more at home out in the countryside, but Bucky can’t bring himself to leave the city.  Even if not much looks familiar, it’s still home. 

            Steve humors him, though.  Spoils him, actually.  Take today.  They’re on their way to a park in Brooklyn that Bucky loves, a small little pocket of green amidst the towering buildings and crowded streets.  It hosts a farmer’s market on Saturday mornings.  Bucky’s looking for another plant or two, and Steve - who has embraced all things organic - is eager to stock up on his favorite food.

            They browse the market, walking hand-in-hand.  There are plenty of plants that catch Bucky’s eye, but none seem quite right.  Steve, thankfully, is by now very used to the time it takes Bucky to find the right plant to add to his ever-growing collection.  He buys a cinnamon roll and munches on it as Bucky browses, occasionally offering Bucky a bite. 

            Bucky finds the plant at the very far end of the market, tucked at the back of the table and hidden by healthier looking plants.  It’s a small spider plant, looking close to death.  Bucky picks it up and - despite what Steve says later - does not coo at it. 

            “Oh, I can get you a better looking one.”  The woman running the stall says, but Bucky refuses.  This little guy needs him, and it won’t take all that much to nurse him back to health, not with his magic.  

            Back at the apartment, Bucky settles down on the couch next to Steve, the spider plant in one hand.  He’s already repotted it into a nice ceramic pot from his stash in the coat closet.  Now it just needs a little water and a nudge in the right direction.  

            “Can I?”  Bucky asks.  Although Steve long ago gave Bucky permission to work whatever magic he needed to, Bucky still asks.  It makes him feel better. 

            “Of course.”  Steve offers his hand and Bucky takes it, lacing their fingers together.  He brushes the long leaf of the plant and focuses.  It’s different, healing a plant, than it is using plants to fight.  The magic stays calm and gentle, almost soothing.  Bucky focuses on sending healthy thoughts towards the plant, coaxing it to seek out the sunlight and grow.  

            Before his eyes, the spider plant grows greener and stronger.  Steve grins.  He always likes seeing the plants come back to life in front of them.  He says it gives him hope.  Not that Steve - the eternal optimist that he is - really needs that, but whatever.  It makes Steve happy, so it makes Bucky happy. 

            Bucky carefully places the plant on an empty spot on the windowsill.  “There.”  He says.  “It looks happy there.”

            That night, he climbs into bed next to Steve.  Ever the cuddler, Steve curls around Bucky and props his head on his chest.  Bucky lives for moments like these, moments that remind him of all the good things in his life now.  He’s got his best guy at his side.  There’s not much more he could ask for - not much more that he wants.

            Bucky stares up at the ceiling, a faint smile playing across his lips.  Above him, climbing plants create a living canopy.  He breathes in, smelling that perfect scent of growth and life.  He feels the buzz of magic beneath his skin.  When he glances back down at Steve, he sees that his tattooed vines have found their way to where Steve’s hand rests on Bucky’s arm.  They burst into bloom around his hand, a burst of vibrant colors that stand out even in the dim light of the bedroom.

            Steve nuzzles further into Bucky’s chest.  “Night, Buck.”  He says sleepily.  “Love ya.”

            Bucky loves this.  He loves being tucked in against Steve, safe from the world and surrounded by the comforting presence of his plants.  

            “Love you.”  Bucky said back.  He drifts off into sleep, that buzz of magic a gentle reminder that Steve is by his side.  

 


End file.
